Market Almanac - March
Memories from the Shop
Every community is really just a collection of relationships that started somewhere smaller. There is a thread that runs from the people we first love to the place we eventually become together — and it doesn't always show itself clearly. But pull on it gently and you'll find it goes all the way back. To a kitchen, a barn, a shop where someone you grew up with was doing something quietly important while you sat nearby, not yet understanding that you were learning something too.
There are things you learn about yourself in the quiet company of someone who loves what they’re doing. My brother Jesse learned it early — the patience a car demands, the way a machine will tell you what it needs if you’re willing to listen. He was just entering high school when he bought his first truck, one with rust some neglect but filled with potential. He took it home and set to work in his shop while the wood stove knocked and ticked against the cold.
I was not mechanically inclined in those days (I’m still not). I was the one in the cab of the truck with a book, keeping out of the way of serious things. But I was there, spending time with my brother, and that counted for something. The smell of that shop — oil and sawdust and wood smoke — has never entirely left me. Neither has what Jesse gave me in those hours: an eye for a good car. An appreciation for the thing a well-made machine becomes when someone cares enough to bring it back.
He shared that with me. I didn’t know it at the time. I thought I was just reading. But I got the horn to work once, and we laughed, and somewhere in that evening I fell quietly in love with classic cars.
That love has a way of traveling through generations. My nephew recently bought an El Camino of his own to fix up — and I can’t help but think about what those hours in the shop are already giving him, the same way they once gave something to me. The wood stove may be different. The truck may be different. But the thing being passed down is exactly the same.
A scrapbook page of Jesse and I with his “2nd Try” with fixing up Grandpa Herb’s truck.
Corvette Stingrays are my particular weakness. There is something about that long, low silhouette — all intention and restraint — that strikes me the same way a well-turned sentence does. It knows exactly what it is. It doesn’t apologize for it.
So, when a crew of Corvettes rolled into Little River back in January and stopped at PJ’s for lunch, I went outside. I couldn’t help it. I stood in the cold and just looked for a while, the way you do when something beautiful shows up unexpectedly on an ordinary day. That’s how I met Gerald and Denise, of the Central Kansas Corvette Association — two people who carry that same quiet enthusiasm Jesse once taught me to recognize.
Uncle Jesse with Xander, showing him the classic cars during the Wallace County Free Fair Parade.
One thing led to another, the way good things do in small towns. And now, on the morning of April 11th, the CKCA is rolling into Little River.
We’re calling it Cool Cars on Main: Coffee & Community, and that is exactly what it will be. The Corvettes arrive at 10 a.m. But this isn’t just for Corvette people — it’s for anyone who has ever stood in a cold parking lot to admire a good car, anyone who grew up in a shop that smelled like oil and winter, anyone who just wants a reason to drive somewhere on a Saturday morning.
Bring yours. Bring whatever you love. Main Street will be worth the trip. Let’s share stories about our relationships built through cars.
We’ll have breakfast pizza, doughnuts, fresh coffee, tea, and Alani energy drinks waiting. Pre-registered CKCA members will receive a road trip ready goodie bag, and we’ll have a Rice County driver’s guide for anyone who wants to keep the morning going.
Come for the cars. Stay for the company.
My brother, Jesse and I, back when we were cool (no kids!).
We’ll see you on Main Street.
